


Healing Hurts

by rebelwriter6561



Series: Getting Better [4]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Panic Attacks, Recovery, Self-Mutilation, emotional breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8447368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelwriter6561/pseuds/rebelwriter6561
Summary: Warren suffers a setback while regrowing his feathers, and Kurt helps as much as he can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Holy smokes. Heed the tags, I was in a bad funk when I was writing this so it really reflects what I was feeling. TW for panic attacks, self harm, all that fun stuff.

Math, again. Kurt still struggled with it, trying to remember its secrets. In the seat next to him, Jean suddenly jolted, like someone just shocked her. Her eyes went wide, and her hand shot into the air.

“We've got to go - Kurt and I, the Professor just called for us.” Before the startled teacher or Kurt could respond, Jean had him by the arm and was dragging him from his seat.

“What's going on?” Kurt asked as he tripped after her, trying to keep pace with her hurried strides. “What does the Professor need us for?”

“He doesn't. It's Angel.” Kurt almost stopped in shock, but the grip on his arm kept him going, pulling him to the dorms. “I don't know what's happening, but he's really freaked out right now. It's really bad.”

Kurt's heart thudded, worry seeping through him. Since their talk on the roof the previous week, he thought Warren had seemed happier, but obviously something had happened that was bad enough for Jean to pick it up. They took the stairs two at a time, Kurt pulling ahead to charge down the hall to Warren's room.

Rounding the corner, Kurt saw the Professor and Magneto outside of Warren's door. He jumped when a harsh crash rang out, and the door to Warren's room shook. 

“ _Get Away From Me!_ ” Warren's roar was muffled by the door, but Kurt could hear the rage and pain it held. It was the most agonized sound he had ever heard.

“Warren,” Kurt gasped. He teleported the rest of the way, leaving Jean behind, to arrive at their teacher's side. “What's happened?” he demanded breathlessly. Professor X turned his sad gaze to him.

“I'm afraid Warren has taken some _unfortunate_ -” the Professor shot Magneto a dark look - “news quite badly. And it does not appear he wants to talk to us now. I think it'd be best if-”

“Kurt!” From the other side of the door, Warren called his name with such desperation that Kurt felt it in his bones. “Kurt!” Warren called again, and Kurt immediately jumped into the room. He caught a glimpse of wrecked furniture before his friend grabbed his arms, making him jump.

Warren was so close to him, Kurt could feel the emotions radiating from him. His eyes were pleading and afraid. “Get me out of here,” he begged. “Now!”

Kurt grabbed him back and brought them to the first place he could think of. Somewhere peaceful and quiet. A small crumbling church, abandoned deep in the woods, and it appeared before his eyes just as he remembered it.

Shrugging off the dizziness from the long-distance travel, Kurt turned his attention back to his friend, who was shaking and still gripping his arms like a lifeline. His wings were red and inflamed, shaking just as much as he was. It was like the roof all over again, but much worse.

Tugging him by the shoulders, Kurt pulled his friend down so they were kneeling in the moss, keeping his hands soft even as Warren's breaths turned harsh. “It's okay, Warren.” he whispered gently. “You can let it out, it's okay. I'm here.”

Tensed up like a spring, Warren squeezed his eyes shut as tears began leaking from them. “Damn it,” he gritted out, and repeated it again, louder. “Damn it. God Damn It!” he screamed, his voice echoing through the trees. Kurt shot the abandoned church an apologetic look.

Resting his head against Kurt's chest, tears falling unchecked down his cheeks, Warren cried out, a wordless roar that Kurt could feel in his bones. He rubbed his friend's back when Warren shouted, again, letting his anger out the only way he could. Kurt stayed where he was, as the sounds died away and Warren sobbed, face pressed to his shirt, tears soaking it through.

Throat tight with sympathy, Kurt waited until the worst seemed to have passed. Warren calmed down slowly, taking deep breaths and finally pulling away from Kurt's wet chest. He kept his eyes away from Kurt's face, like he was ashamed of himself, though he still kept his grip on Kurt's arms, and Kurt kept his hands safely on his shoulders.

“What happened, Warren?” Kurt asked carefully. His friend was suffering, clearly, and he needed to know why.

“It's…” Warren paused, swallowing harshly. “It's my wings. The metal ones. They're growing back too.”

Kurt felt like he had been punched in the gut. “What? How? How did-”

“I thought they were just being slow, since my wings are such a mess,” Warren answered. “But Magneto, he stopped me and asked, and then he-” Warren broke off with a shuddering moan. “God, he just yanked on them, like it was nothing. He wasn't anywhere near me but he just _pulled_ on them and I felt it. I felt it in my wings. It's still in me.”

“No,” Kurt whispered weakly, unsure of what to say or do. Those dangerous wings, the ones that he saw in the worst of his dreams, the ones Warren hated so much. How could they be coming back?

Warren let out a harsh sob, hand curling into a fist in Kurt's shirt. “And I was getting better, finally. I was gonna get my shit figured out, I was going to class for once when Magneto stopped me. I was feeling good, I thought I was _happy_ , I thought things were going to be okay…”

“It will be okay,” Kurt assured his friend, even though he didn't see how. “Somehow, it'll be okay. You've survived so much already, and you're so strong. You'll get through this, and come out better. And I'll be with you, the whole time. I'm not leaving.”

“You should, though,” Warren gritted out, glaring at the ground. “These things are dangerous, you know that.”

“But it's not just them - you've still got your real feathers too.” Kurt reached out, meaning to point to a section of fluffy white near Warren's shoulder. But his finger brushed one of the inflamed portions, and he yanked his hand back with a gasp when a pinch of pain shot through his finger. He'd found one of the metal feathers.

Warren's hand shot up and grabbed his, staring at the drop of blood. “You see?” he said sadly, wiping it away with his finger. “I already hurt you. These wings do nothing but bad.” Groaning, he rested his face against Kurt's chest again, arms wrapped around Kurt's middle. “I want them gone. I don't want them, I never wanted them, I want them out of me. But I don't...”

Kurt waited, keeping his hands away from the wings. He stroked Warren's head instead, threading his fingers through the short golden strands. They had a long way to grow to get back to their former glory.

“I know what I have to do, and I don't wanna do it.” Warren muttered thickly against Kurt's chest. “I need to get x-rayed, and Hank will want to prod at them and the Professor will say some bullshit…” His fingers tightened on Kurt's back. “They hurt, they really fucking hurt, but I'm getting real fucking sick of the med bay. I hate it.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Kurt offered, though he wasn't sure if he should. He had been with Warren at his worst, but this was private. 

The look that Warren gave him was so full of relief that Kurt knew he'd been right to offer. Warren's dislike of the doctors seemed to border on fear, and it was undoubtedly well founded.

“Do you want to go now?” Warren shook his head, rubbing at his eyes.

“Give me a minute,” he sniffed, blinking at the surrounding trees. His eyes fell on the crumbling church, and he chuckled. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Germany, again,” Kurt admitted sheepishly. “I couldn't think of anywhere else to go.”

“Well, I'm not complaining.” Warren got to his feet, stretching his wings with a wince. “It's nice to be out of that damn mansion for once.”

Kurt jumped to his feet as well, belatedly realizing that bringing Warren to Germany again was perhaps not a wise idea. Not because he thought he'd escape, but Germany had painful memories for him. This was where his wings were ruined, after all.

With a last inhale of the fresh air, Warren turned back to Kurt and offered his hand. His eyes were still red, but no one seeing him would believe he'd had such a painful breakdown just minutes ago.

Kurt took his hand, reluctantly thinking of the cold white walls of the medical floor. Those walls spun before his eyes when they arrived, but Warren's hand on his arm supported him when he wobbled.

A surprised noise made the pair notice Hank, who was standing in the doorway. He looked nervously from Warren to Kurt.

“Did the Professor tell you what happened?” Warren demanded, his voice harsh. Hank nodded, reluctantly.

“He said your metal feathers are coming back,” he said with a sigh. He looked very tired and worn. “I knew we should have taken another x-ray before you left the hospital-”

“Well you can now, okay?” Warren snapped. “Let's get this over with- my wings are killing me.”

Hank led them over to the machine. He handed Kurt his jacket and shirt when he stripped and stood in front of the device. Claws dimpling the leather, Kurt remembered retrieving it with Warren just a few weeks ago. So much had changed.

While the machine hummed and scanned Warren's outstretched wings, the Professor and Magneto entered the med bay and joined them off to the side. Magneto looked remorseful, which made Kurt feel a little better. The way he had treated Warren was downright cruel.

“I'm glad you were able to bring him back, Kurt,” the Professor greeted him with a nod. “I know this will be very difficult for Angel - it will be easier to help him if he's here.”

Kurt felt an uncharacteristic jab of irritation at the Professor's words. Professor X clearly thought Warren was still so flighty, that he was responsible for his friend's decision. That wasn't the case - if Warren had wanted to leave Kurt wouldn't be the one to stop him.

Warren joined them as they waited for the scans to print, frowning at the sight of Magneto. He took his clothes back from Kurt but only pulled the jacket on. His wings were slumped low, as if the extra weight from his growing metal feathers was too much to carry. Remembering how much pain he was in, Kurt laid a comforting hand on his arm.

“Warren, I would like to apologize for my actions.” Magneto said stiffly. “I didn't realize you were unaware of their presence.”

“You shouldn't have pulled on them,” Warren growled. “I don't want anyone touching them.” 

Kurt caught the Professor and Magneto exchange glances at his words, but Hank held Warren's attention when he came back with the prints. One by one, he pinned them to the lighted board.

Kurt gasped. Even the Professor and Magneto looked shocked. Like a thousand pins under his skin, Warren's growing metal feathers were carved in white against the grey of his bones. There were large gaps in some places, where the real feathers were growing, but much of his wings were lined with them.

Kurt knew he was gaping in shock, and his claws were now gripping Warren's arm through the leather jacket. He couldn't imagine how painful it had to be.

Warren's face was empty as he stared at the pictures, eyes tight but giving nothing away. He turned to Hank, absentmindedly taking Kurt's hand from his arm. “Do you have those pictures you took of my wings? From when I first got here?”

Face pale, Hank nodded and scurried off to his office.

Magneto spoke up. “When we rescued you from the crash-” Kurt shifted nervously, feeling the sting of regret at not rescuing Warren when he had the chance. Another injury against Warren that was all his own fault- “most of your metal wings came off then.”

“I know, and I pulled the rest off.” Warren grabbed the pictures Hank offered. He held them up to his x-rays, and Kurt whimpered at the sight. 

He hadn't seen Warren after the crash, hadn't visited him in the hospital. The bloody, bruised, and crumpled form in the pictures looked nothing like the man next to him. He had no idea what shape his friend had been in.

Looking from the twisted wings in the pictures, to the bright illuminated versions, Warren grimly nodded. “Everywhere I pulled it out is growing back normally. The parts that fell out in the crash are growing back metal.” He sighed, letting his hands drop. “I need to get these pulled out too.”

“I don't think it will be that simple, Angel.” The Professor rolled forward, trying to catch Warren's eye. “It might be a coincidence, a lucky chance, that the places that are naturally growing back are where you yourself removed the metal. You might find the metal feathers returning, even if they're successfully removed. It might be best if we-”

“ _I want these fucking things out of my wings!_ ” Kurt jumped when his friend lashed out at the Professor, his face twisted in fury. “You have no _fucking_ idea how this feels! You don't _get_ it, I'm trying to get over what that monster did to me but I can't if these things are still in me!”

Magneto extended his hand, pulling the Professor away from Warren. Kurt stepped into his place, not because he through Warren would attack; his friend was distraught - he couldn't just stand by. He planted his hands on Warren's shoulders, trying to ground him.

Warren's eyes turned to him, and Kurt could see the fear behind the anger. Kurt didn't need to say anything- Warren took a deep breath and calmed, wrapping one hand around Kurt's wrist.

“They hurt,” he mumbled, just loud enough for Kurt to hear. Kurt nodded, rubbing his thumb on Warren's bare collarbone. This truly wasn't a good day for his friend.

“We're not going to be able to do anything now anyway.” Timidly, Hank spoke up. “Most of them haven't broken the skin- it'd be too much to force them out now.” He shot Magneto a dirty look, and Kurt realized with a sinking feeling how they were planning on removing them.

Warren's hand tightened on his wrist, and they locked eyes in understanding. Kurt didn't want Magneto using his powers on Warren any more than he did.

“For now, let's just focus on letting them grow a bit.” Hank gestured for Kurt and Warren to follow him to his office. Hank pulled a white bottle from his desk, which rattled as he passed it to Warren. “This’ll help with the pain. I understand if you don't want to stay in the hospital, but you should come in often, so we can monitor for infection. If they start bleeding-” 

“I know how to take care of my own damn wings,” Warren snapped. Kurt's mind was reeling- he was beginning to realize exactly what Warren was going through with growing his wings.

Taking his hand again, Warren led him out of the medical ward, not looking at the Professor or Magneto, who were having a very heated conversation. Kurt walked with him back to his room. Warren rattled the door, and when it didn't open, he thudded his head against the wood.

“I locked myself out,” he bitterly chuckled. Without him needing to ask, Kurt moved them inside easily. In the lonely dark of the room, he closed the distance between them. Warren pulled him into a hug, burying his face in Kurt's neck.

They stood like that for a very long time.

~*~

The next several days were rough. Kurt was in Warren's room whenever he didn't have class, because his poor friend was in no shape to leave. His wings were bleeding, badly, from the metal feathers pushing through his skin. The aches and pain was enough to confine Warren to his bed, which he clearly resented. He was cranky and miserable, lashing out at Hank whenever he stopped to check in him.

He even snapped at Kurt, once, when he offered to bring him some dinner. The horrified look on his face after the words left his mouth, and his immediate fumbled apology, told Kurt more than anything else how his friend was feeling.

Kurt did everything he could think of to help his friend. He brought his homework to Warren's room, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was far better at math than Kurt was. Tutoring him, and correcting the English he was still learning, seemed to take his mind off the pain. And he seemed to enjoy Kurt's company, despite being a cranky mess.

Kurt even helped him clean his wings, after most of the bleeding stopped and the clots were flaking off his skin. He gently patted them with a cloth that quickly turned red, while Warren bit his lip and tried not to whimper in pain. He was especially quiet after that, his eyes far away and unfocused. No doubt thinking of the upcoming procedure.

Hank and Magneto had talked about it with Warren, and he'd nearly crushed Kurt's hand from gripping it while they listened. Once the metal feathers were long enough, Warren would be put under and Magneto would remove them. It sounded so simple, yet so horrifying. Warren was clearly dreading it, even if he never said it to Kurt.

The night before it was meant to take place, Kurt went to Warren's room after dinner, to find his friend drunk, or at least intoxicated. That was new- he'd thought his friend was past that. He had no idea where he'd gotten the liquor in the first place.

Warren blinked red eyes at him, holding up his hand against Kurt's frown. “Don't judge me right now.” His voice wavered as he shifted uncomfortably, wings collapsed on the bed behind him. “I'm scared, and I hate myself because of what I'm gonna ask you, and I'm really not capable of being sober right now.”

“What are you going to ask me?” Kurt asked softly, stepping closer. Any remaining respect of personal boundaries had vanished over the last few days, so Kurt wasn't shocked when he sat next to Warren on the bed and his friend instantly rested his head on his shoulder. He was trembling.

“I don't trust Hank or Magneto with my wings,” Warren explained dully. “Like, I know they'll just pull the metal out and I'll be fine, but I _can't_ -” Warren took a deep shuddering breath. “People have messed with my wings before, and done stuff to me while I was passed out, and drunk. I don't remember any of it, but that- it doesn't help. I know something happened.”

Kurt listened in quiet shock to his friend's confession. He felt such sorrow, so much compassion for his friend, who had been through hell and was still fighting it.

“I can go with you. Surely Hank will let me stay with you.” Warren began shaking his head before Kurt finished.

“I don't want anyone to touch my wings. No one but you. I want you to do it.”

Stunned, Kurt stared at him. “Me?” he whispered, strangled and tight. “But I- how? I can't, I've- I've hurt you enough. I can't do that.”

Warren scoffed. “That's exactly why you should do it. You don't want to hurt me, so I know you won't make it worse.” Warren rubbed his face. “It makes sense in my head. I don't know. I don't want this to happen, but it has to, I know it. Every time I think of it happening I want to jump out a window, but if I think of you being the one to do it then it won't be so bad.”

Kurt looked away, blinking away unwelcome tears, his tail coiling in worry. He shouldn't, he couldn't, he should just put Warren to bed and tell the Professor, wait with him until it was over. But Warren was there now, he needed him. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had to do it.

He was the one who'd broken Warren's wings in the first place, so it was fitting that he should put them to rights.

“How… how do you want me to do it?” Warren looked up at him in quiet relief, and Kurt stammered on. “I can't pull them out like Magneto would, or make it not painful, but-”

“I don't care,” Warren cut him off, reaching across the bed to his nightstand. “I can deal with the pain.” He brandished a pair of fine-nosed pliers at Kurt. 

Kurt's stomach dropped. Warren dropped the tool in his hand, eyes full of determination as he pulled out a stack of towels and laid them on his bed. “This can't be worse than what's already been done to me,” he assured Kurt as he laid down on his chest. His wings stretched out behind him. “Which do you want to start with?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

Kurt was frozen in place still, stunned with the suddenness. Warren had been prepared for this, like he'd known Kurt would say yes. Did he think of Kurt as a pushover, or did he really trust him agree?

Warren reached over and put his hand on Kurt's knee, his eyes sad. “I'm sorry I had to ask you.” His tone was serious as he continued, “I know you don't want to do this, and I'm a piece of shit for asking you. I'm literally the worst friend, and you can tell me to fuck off after this. I'd understand.”

Warren's words finally pushed Kurt into moving. He crawled up the bed so he was sitting behind the left wing, where Warren could see him if he craned his neck. “You shouldn't call yourself that, Warren.” He smoothed his hand across the other boy’s shoulders, careful of the wings. “I'm so happy to have you as my friend. I want to help you.”

“Yeah, but this isn't breaking rules to get on the roof, or going to Germany.” Warren flexed the muscles under Kurt's hand, stretching his wing. “I'll make this up to you, somehow. I'll think of something.”

“Don't worry about it now,” Kurt assured him. “How do you want me to do this? Should I go slow or-”

“Just yank it out. Like a band-aid.” Warren sucked in a breath and held it as Kurt lined up the pliers with one dark jut of metal at the tip of his wing. Kurt's hands trembled, and he had to look away, taking his own deep breaths.

“Are you sure this will work?”

“No but I don't have any better ideas. Just do it Kurt.” Before his courage failed him, Kurt clamped down on the metal stub and _yanked_ it. There was a catch of resistance, then it came out terribly smoothly.

Warren's startled gasp had apologies spilling from Kurt's throat. “It's fine!” Warren snapped, cutting him off. “That wasn't that bad. Keep going.”

Carefully, Kurt dropped the sharp piece of metal onto the bed next to him. There was a tiny bead of blood where the first had come out, and Kurt wondered if he should be wearing gloves. Warren had said he was clean when Kurt had helped him wash his wings earlier, but this was a bit more dangerous.

Kurt pulled out the next shard, keeping his eyes on Warren's face. His eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed, but he barely twitched as he went further along the wing. Kurt fell into a brutal rhythm, barely pausing between pulls, because that seemed easiest on Warren. The small pile of metal grew bigger.

“Okay, stop. Stop, please,” Warren stammered when Kurt was halfway done. Kurt jumped up, giving him space if he needed it. The faraway look was back in his eyes, and his breath was stuttering when he pushed himself up to rest on his knees. “I just need a minute.”

Nodding, Kurt said “I'll be right back", and vanished to the kitchen. Shaking, ignoring the curious looks of the students making their meals, Kurt grabbed a large bowl. He let it fill with warm water while he grabbed a plastic bag from the pantry.

Kurt held the bowl as even as possible when he returned to Warren's room, but it spilled a bit when he arrived. Warren watched him with heavy eyes as Kurt carefully picked the metal feathers off the bed, tucking them in the plastic bag.

“What should I do with these, when I'm done?” he asked, nodding at the bag he left open on the bed. They were nowhere close to done - it would no doubt full when they were finished.

“I don't care.” Warren's voice was harsh, and Kurt wondered if he had anything to drink while Kurt was gone. “I just want them out.”

He wasn't drunk, Kurt realized as he tried to meet his eye. Warren was trying not to cry, again, clearly more affected than he let on. Kurt wrapped his arms around him, willing his friend to calm. His heart was breaking for his friend.

“Just think of how beautiful they'll look, when your real feathers grow back,” Kurt murmured, stroking his head. 

“That's what I'm telling myself. It's worth it in the end.” Warren sighed, his breath brushing Kurt's shirt before he pulled away. “You can keep going now.”

He laid back down, and Kurt joined him, sitting closer to him as he worked down the stretch of wing leading to his back. The muscles were thicker here, and it was harder to pull the metal free. Kurt paused at a patch of downy fluff, rubbing his fingers over the real feathers. Picturing Warren's wings covered in the fluff cheered him a little, but it was quickly swallowed by the growing shame and sorrow in his chest.

He knew pain, knew how to give it to himself by carving his skin, trying to right the many wrongs in his life. Doing the same to Warren felt so wrong, so terrible. He had no right to be hurting his friend like this. If he could take the pain for himself, if he could do anything else for Warren to ease his suffering, he would. In a heartbeat.

He choked back a sob when he switched from one wing to the other. This was all his fault. He never should have fought back against Warren in the ring - it wasn't like Warren would have been able to catch him in the first place. He hadn't needed to hurl Warren into the fence the way he had.

And in Egypt- if only he’d thought to grab Warren when he'd rescued his friends from the crashing plane. Even after they'd fought, it was unthinkable that he had left someone behind. 

He'd nearly killed Warren. 

How could Warren trust him after that? How could they be friends? And how could he dream of being more than friends? How could they?

“Kurt?” Warren's voice seemed to come from far away, and Kurt realized he had been lost in the memories, his hands still. He could barely see the wings through the wetness in his eyes. There were tears on his cheeks that he swiped at as he drew a shaking breath.

“I'm fine,” he tried to say, but it came out as a sob instead.

Warren sat up, swinging his bloody wing past Kurt's head as he turned to face him. “Why are you crying?” he asked, worry in his voice. “Did you get hurt?”

Kurt shook his head, trying to stifle his tears. “I'm sorry,” he whimpered. “I'm so sorry I've hurt you. I shouldn't-” he broke off with a sob, tears flowing earnest. With his left hand, he sunk his claws into the back of his hand, dragging them down so a new line formed on his skin. The familiar rush of pain made him gasp, but the sweet relief grounded his focus. It would be better if he could carve his apology into his skin, where he could always remember it.

Warren's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, holding him like iron. “What are you doing?!” he demanded. His free hand grabbed a towel from the bed, pressing it to Kurt's hand.

“I've hurt you enough. I don't deserve your friendship, I shouldn't be doing this. I'm so sorry.” Kurt couldn't look at Warren. He tugged at his wrist, wanting to leave, wanting to finish what he started with his claws in his skin.

“Kurt, stop.” Warren pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him so he couldn't move. Painfully slowly, his wings arched around them, trying to complete the hug. “God, we're a mess,” he muttered into Kurt's shoulder. “You should have told me, buddy. I didn't think this would have bothered you this much.”

Kurt choked out a gasp. “I just want you to be happy. I shouldn't be hurting you.”

“I asked you to. You're not hurting me - you're helping.” Warren pulled back to gently stroke the tears from Kurt's face, rubbing them across the marks gracing his skin. “You did these to yourself?”

Kurt nodded. “They are to atone for my sins.” His hand throbbed, a reminder that he was not finished. “This is the worst of them all.”

Warren picked up his hand, moving the towel to check the wound. “If you say so,” he whispered, and gently brushed his lips over Kurt's skin. Kurt was reminded of a small child, asking for kisses to soothe injuries. His skin tingled at the touch.

“You're too good, Kurt. It's like you're unreal.” Warren's fingers were stroking his skin, lighting warmth through his body. “I get it though. Sometimes it's too much, and this-” he tapped Kurt's rent skin- “I know it makes it feel better. Or less worse.” He shrugged. “I used to do the same with my wings, pulling feathers until I felt better. But you shouldn't feel bad about hurting me. I'm used to it.”

“You shouldn't be.” Kurt shook himself, trying to clear his head. He had no right to be caught up in his own problems while Warren needed him more. But he was so very thankful Warren had understood. He hadn't even told his new friends, for fear that they would not get it.

“We should get this cleaned up. If you don't want to keep going, that's fine.” Warren rolled his shoulders, flexing his wings. “I'll grow a pair and have Hank or Magneto do it, it's fine.”

“I should finish it.” Kurt knew he had to, they'd come this far already, even if he didn't want to. Warren nodded and laid back down, craning his neck to keep his eyes on Kurt.

Pressing the towel to his hand, Kurt leant forward so his forehead rested on Warren's back, between his wings. “I am so sorry,” he said again, even though a million apologies wouldn't make it better. “Please forgive me.”

“I already have, Kurt.” Warren's voice was as soft as Kurt's, muffled by the pillow. “If you can forgive all the shit I've done, I can give you this.”

Kurt sniffed, pulling back and moving to the right wing, where he had left off. Warren's words didn't fix everything, but they calmed somewhat. Enough to finish the job.

When they were finally done, the towels on the bed were all splattered with blood, and the pile of sharp metal threatened to split the flimsy plastic bag. Warren let Kurt wash his wings, wincing at every swipe. Then he ran his fingers carefully over his skin, checking for any missed spikes.

Warren finally slumped in relief, letting his hands and wings fall. “I think you got them all,” he assured Kurt with a smile. “Now they'll hopefully all grow back normal.”

Kurt nodded, stroking the mark on his hand. He didn't feel a need to continue. Seeing Warren's brightened face was enough to drive his fears from his mind, at least for now.

Warren slumped on his side, stretching his wings as far as they would go. “God, they even feel lighter,” he marveled. “I feel so much better.”

Kurt smiled at him, pulling all the stained towels over. “I think Magneto will be disappointed he could not help.” Warren pulled a face at his words.

“Ugh, don't remind me. I'm not ever letting that prick near my wings.” He sat up, picking up the bag of metal spikes carefully. “Can you take these with you? I don't want to deal with them again.”

Kurt took the bag and the towels, wondering what to do with them. “Do you want me to bring you supper?” he asked hesitantly, wondering if Warren would still want his company after this.

“Yeah, and your homework. I'll help you get the hang of that math somehow.” He was beaming at Kurt, no trace of anger or hate on his face. “Thanks, buddy.”

Kurt shyly smiled as he vanished to his room. It seemed they were still friends, perhaps even closer now, even after what happened. It was better than he could have hoped for.

The towels went in the hamper. The bag of metal Kurt put in his closet. He couldn't bring himself to throw them out.

**Author's Note:**

> Next part it's Kurt's turn to suffer!


End file.
